


in three words

by riverblujay



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Eczema, Fluff, Gen, Slightest bit of angst, Virgil has eczema, it's more likely than you think, me?? projecting??? a g a i n???, platonic, roman has rosacea, rosacea, self harm mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 12:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15413463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverblujay/pseuds/riverblujay
Summary: "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life:it goes on."-robert frost(or: roman and virgil are keeping similar secrets- not that either of them know that- but secrets always have a way of coming out.)





	in three words

**Author's Note:**

> the summary is Vague and Dramatic but it is 4:30 am and i cant think of anything better tbh

Roman could tell the atmosphere was becoming increasingly awkward and tense.

 

“Virgil?” Logan had asked the anxious side only seconds before. “Is there a particular reason that you never take off your jacket?”

 

The silence in the living room was deafening. The sides had been getting ready to have a movie night. The logical side had already queued up the first movie, and as soon as Logan asked his question Patton returned with the popcorn. Virgil froze, his face like a deer’s caught in headlights. 

 

“Um, well…” Virgil trailed off. “Patton, do you need any help with the drinks? I’ll help you with the drinks.” He was deflecting, but left the room for the kitchen so suddenly that the logical side didn’t have enough time to call him out on it. Patton didn’t call Virgil out on it either, instead choosing to follow the anxious side back into the kitchen.

 

Roman stared. Hopefully this wouldn’t impact their plans for the evening too much. And also…

 

“Logan, you do realize that probably wasn’t the most tactful way to say that?” Roman asked the side in question. Logan furrowed his brows and frowned at Roman’s response.

 

“Oh. Yes, I suppose there was most likely a better way to phrase it. Potentially I could ask in a different way once Virgil returns.”

 

Roman bit his lip. “It may be the best course of action to drop the topic for today. Virgil seems rather sensitive to the matter.”

 

“Hm. Perhaps you are correct.” Logan’s sigh was a bit dramatic, but he nonetheless replied, “Very well, then,” and didn’t say anything once the anxious side re-entered the room, something that- after a few minutes, and Virgil seemed sure Logan wouldn’t bring it up again- caused him to sigh in relief.

 

What, Roman wondered as one of the others exchanged the first movie for the second, was so bad that the anxious side tensed up at the mere mention of what lay under his sleeves?

 

\---

 

After the final movie of the night, Roman returned to his room and walked straight to the vanity to wash off his foundation. 

 

It was a beautiful piece of furniture, sure, but it also served a purpose. Lighting was lighting, no matter how elegant, and ornate drawer handles still functioned as handles. The drawers themselves held many different kinds of makeup, but there were two large ones dedicated solely to complexion products- foundations, concealers, primers of all types of formulas, and most importantly, his green stick color corrector. 

 

It wasn’t common knowledge to the sides (mostly because he  _ did _ usually wear makeup), but Roman’s complexion was not naturally smooth like a stereotypical prince’s would be. It was hard for him to believe he was handsome without some sort of aid- he was splotchy, red, not to mention rosy cheeks to the point that it looked as if he was perpetually cursed with a half-healed sunburn.

 

(He had looked it up once-  _ rosacea,  _ the internet had called it. Roman had determined his case wasn’t particularly severe, but it was enough to make him self-conscious.) 

 

He made a point not to leave his room without some sort of foundation or concealer on, and used setting spray religiously so that it would stay for the whole day. He was always particularly careful on the days they filmed videos. 

 

Roman thought back to just few hours ago. What  _ could _ Virgil be hiding under his hoodie’s sleeves? It wasn’t polite to pry, Roman knew, and he didn’t want to make a huge deal of it (especially in front of the other sides), but he had to wonder. Maybe tomorrow, when he had foundation on again, he would approach Virgil alone. He finished washing all of the layers of makeup off of his face and showered in the bathroom connected to his room (and maybe he sang while he showered, too). Roman changed into his pajamas and climbed in his bed, eventually falling into a somewhat restless sleep.

 

He awoke the next morning, not totally rested but not overly tired either, which Roman supposed could be considered a win. Yawning, he made his way over to the bathroom and began to get ready for the day- clothes, makeup, and all.

 

Hopefully, he would be able to at least talk with Virgil about the incident, but who knew, really. Virgil could decide to let Roman approach the topic with him, sure, but there was also the opportunity for the anxious side to reject him, shut him out, avoidance…

 

Well, as the internet was apt to say- too long, didn’t read: Roman had to use extreme caution.

 

He continued the process that was doing his makeup- primers, BB cream, the color corrector (green to counteract the red), concealer, and  _ then _ foundation and powder.

 

(Was it a lot of work? Yes. Would Roman ever have enough self-confidence to face the others without any of it? Not in any version of the near future.)

 

He used his setting spray after baking his face, and finally changed out of his pajamas and into day clothes. Roman left for the kitchen, passing the others’ rooms along the way. Logan was likely to be up, per usual, and Patton and Virgil most likely would not appear until later in the morning. 

 

Sure enough, when Roman reached his destination he found it just as expected; Logan was alone, reading a book that was propped up against the napkin holder as he ate a bowl of oatmeal. His coffee was nearby, the light shade indicating that Logan had once again indulged in his sweet tooth this morning. (As much as Logan preached healthy habits, the sides all knew about his weakness for sugar. The logical side’s only saving grace in the matter was that he had a semblance of self control- for example, Logan usually restricted himself to one cup of his atrociously sweet coffee a day, and one or two treats a week.

 

Unless Patton had baked cookies, of course.)

 

Roman walked past him and over to the toaster- he was in the mood for a bagel, which suited his normally light appetite in the mornings just fine- and directed a short, “Good morning,” at the logical side, who waited to finish his bite of oatmeal before replying in a similar fashion.

 

After a moment, long enough for Roman to place his breakfast in the toaster, Logan spoke again. “Were you planning on confronting Virgil about what happened last night today?” he asked, turning to face the creative side as he said it.

 

“And if I was?” Roman’s voice took on a defensive tone. 

 

Logan squinted at him, replying, “Just curious. If you must know, in the case that Virgil does let you converse with him on the topic, I would appreciate you passing on that it was not my intention to be… insensitive… yesterday.”

 

“Will do.”

 

At that moment, the soft  _ pop _ of the toaster rang like thunder throughout the silent room. Deciding that the conversation was most likely over (and to be honest Roman and Logan, despite being the first ones up, didn’t talk much in the mornings), Roman began spreading cream cheese onto his bagel and placing it on a plate, setting the plate on the table and pouring himself a glass of juice. 

 

He began eating, pushing thoughts of Virgil and the secrecy that was surrounding him out of his mind. (Some that were darker than others- it was entirely possible that Virgil was simply someone who was perpetually cold, or just liked having the security that a hoodie brought, but there was a thought that persisted despite Roman's attempts to quell it.

 

What if Virgil never showed his arms because they were home to scars? And more frighteningly- how new were they, if those scars weren't a hypothetical that the darkest part of Roman's mind had created?)

 

He mentally shook himself. Everything was probably fine with the anxious side. There was no reason for Roman to be anxious (anxious,  _ ha _ ) about Virgil. Most likely. Probably. Hopefully.

 

(Roman being creativity meant that there were so many scenarios that played out in his head with extreme detail once he thought of them, and this was an idea that, for once, he didn’t want to develop further.)

 

Placing his dishes in the sink, all that was left now was to wait. There was no sense in waking the anxious side while he was asleep- in fact, that might just make Virgil even more reluctant to tell Roman the truth. So he would wait. Even if his curiosity and concern were killing him, he would wait.

  
  


\---

  
  


Sure enough, about four hours later (closer to noon than eleven), Virgil emerged. Roman had been in his room for most of the time, working on video ideas and scripts and other projects (he always had so much to do, so  _ so _ much, it was almost overwhelming). The creative side had returned to the kitchen for a light snack with the hope that it would rejuvenate him and maybe help him get over a rough patch he had hit in brainstorming.

 

Virgil sleepily walked down the stairs, mumbling about coffee and found the pot that was filled with the caffeinated drink, which was almost always full. He grabbed a mug from the cupboard above the coffee maker and managed to pour some for himself (Virgil was the opposite of Logan- he drank it black, “like his soul,” the anxious side had once remarked. Patton instantly issued another reassurance that he would fight Virgil, to which the side in question shrugged and took a sip of the bitter liquid).

 

After quickly draining his first cup, Virgil immediately poured a second, this time drinking it slowly and seeming to savor it. He didn’t acknowledge Roman (with only a nod) until after he had finished his second cup, grabbed a granola bar, and began returning to his room. The creative side decided he would give the other a few minutes before approaching him.

 

Roman knew the wait was short in comparison to how long he had waited for Virgil to wake up, but this one felt more tense, more  _ real _ , as if before time had passed normally but now it had slowed down enough for Roman to truly and deeply think about his next actions. 

 

It was officially afternoon by the time Roman had screwed up enough courage to actually visit the anxious side’s room. He hesitated as he stood at the door, the dark wood looming over him like an imposing tower. A deep inhale, a deep exhale, and before Roman could change his mind he raised his hand and knocked three times. 

 

A second, then two, then three, then-

 

“Roman? What are you  _ doing _ here?”

 

The door had swung open silently, revealing the room’s occupant- appearing in his normal clothes and such. Virgil’s eyeshadow was dark, per usual, and the garment that had gotten Roman into this situation in the first place was already on the anxious side’s body. 

 

“Um,” he replied. “I kind of maybe have something to ask you- well, even just talk to you, I guess-”

 

Virgil sighed in exasperation. “It’s about the hoodie, right? Look, it’s fine,” Virgil began to say, before Roman slightly cut him off.

 

“Logan wanted to apologize,” he rambled quickly, shouting in one breath.

 

“Apologize? If he wanted to apologize he should have come here himself,” Virgil replied, seeming irritated and beginning to shut the door.

 

“No, wait-” Roman interjected, “he specifically said to tell you that it ‘was not his intention to be insensitive yesterday.’ And he knew that I was planning on coming to your room to, well, check on you.”

 

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Ignoring that second part for now,” he stated, “that does sound like Logan.” Virgil reopened the door slightly, taking his hand off of the handle and began to lean against the frame. “Okay, what was that about you ‘checking on me?’”

 

Roman bit his lip. “Well, I guess I just wanted to know if you were okay. And that if anything was going on you could tell us. Me. Whichever, I guess.”

 

The raised eyebrow was now accompanied by a slight grimace. “I mean, I appreciate the concern and all, and honestly when am I  _ ever _ completely okay, but what brought this on?”

 

Flinching, Roman mumbled, “I'm hoping that it's just me being over-imaginative, but… you got really nervous when Logan asked why you never took off your jacket. And I know that it's probably nothing, but, I just,” he sighed in frustration at himself, how the words that most of the time poured out of him so easily failing him when he needed them most. 

 

“...Are you asking me whether or not I self harm?”

 

Roman's flinch intensified. “In a nutshell… yes?”

 

Virgil surprised him by flat out laughing in response, but then gave the creative side a serious glance. “No, Roman, I don't.”

 

A sigh of relief. “Good,” he awkwardly added. “I- ugh, I don't know- but I'm glad that whatever the reason you always wear your sleeves, that is not it.”

 

The silence turned awkward. “Well, that's enough of that,” Virgil said. “Glad we talked, all that jazz, bye,” he hurriedly said, practically pushing Roman out of the door frame and closed the wood on his face before Roman even had the chance to ask about what the reason for Virgil’s secrecy was, if it wasn't that.

 

“That went well,” Roman muttered bitterly to himself. Instead of trying again and potentially making the situation worse, he figured it best to cut his losses and returned to his room. 

 

Roman had answers, but also more questions, which was honestly more infuriating than if he had gotten no answers at all.

 

(Though at least now he was not worried about the possibility of Virgil self harming, (assuming the anxious side hadn't lied to Roman) which was a relief.)

  
  


\---

  
  


The real problem was that everything carried on normally for weeks. 

 

No one acknowledged what had happened, Virgil’s reaction, any of it. Roman was getting a little irritated, to be quite honest. He knew that the reason was probably something mundane, but the fact that the anxious side was even more cautious about wearing his hoodie around the other sides made Roman all the more curious about the real reason. 

 

(He had mentioned to Logan that the logical side’s messaged had been passed on to Virgil, which seemed to satisfy him. Roman knew, though, that he was interested in what Virgil was hiding as well.)

 

Each time Roman tried to catch Virgil alone and ask about his reluctance to remove his hoodie around the others, the anxious side either deflected and then left for his room, or simply left without addressing Roman’s concerns at all. He figured that Virgil was expecting Roman to give up, but he was underestimating the creative side’s tenacity (read: stubbornness). Roman just knew that he couldn’t overwhelm the anxious side by bringing up the topic every day.

 

Which meant that life had mostly returned to normalcy. Routines stayed the same- there was still planning to be done, scripts and such to be written. He still put on his makeup every morning, Patton still enforced family dinners, and more movie nights were had. Robert Frost (sue him, Logan wasn’t the only one who could like poetry) had once said, “ In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: It goes on.” Which was an accurate description of Roman’s existence right now. However, even he knew that nothing stayed the same forever, and that the situation would eventually come to a head.

 

Like now, for instance.

 

“Virgil, what’s that on your arm?”

 

Roman and Logan’s heads snapped to stare at Patton, then quickly turned their glances to the anxious side himself. Virgil tensed and reflexively pulled his sleeve back down from where it had ridden up, but not before all of the sides had gotten a glimpse of the slightly red, rash-like, scabbing patches scattered all across his arms.

 

“Are those… burns?” Patton asked slowly, his face silently asking if he was allowed to take a closer look. Virgil looked around at how all three of the other sides were staring intently at him. He huffed a sigh. 

 

“No,” he finally admitted. He scoffed slightly, before continuing. “It’s stupid,” he muttered.

 

“Virgil, your health is of great concern to us, whether you believe so or not,” Logan stated. “I assure you, none of us would agree with your assessment of ‘stupid.’”

 

“Maybe irrelevant is a better word, then,” the anxious side replied, rolling his eyes, “but fine. If you’re really that insistent on it- I guess it’s less ‘stupid,’ more ‘embarrassing’ than anything.”

 

Roman softly muttered to him, “None of us would laugh at you, I can assure you of that, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance.” From Virgil’s quick glance at Roman, he figured he had heard Roman’s remark. Sighing once more, Virgil pushed up both of his sleeves.

 

Roman couldn’t help the sudden inhale of breath at the sight of the anxious side’s arms. He was able to see the almost scale-like patches in all their faintly red glory. They were scabbed, dry, and it was hard to believe that they  _ weren’t _ burns, to be honest. 

 

“See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything. It’s honestly not that big of a deal like you guys are making it out to be.”

 

“But what is it if it’s not burns, kiddo?”

 

Virgil grimaced. “It’s called eczema. Skin thing.”

 

“Ah,” Logan interjected. “However, I am afraid that I am not certain on the specifics.”

 

“It’s not that bad, really, it just looks worse than it is. It just means that my skin is itchy and all flakey looking- sometimes it scabs- where the patches are. Sometimes it dies down. Sometimes it’s worse. Am I allowed to pull my sleeves back down now?”

 

“Oh, sure thing, kiddo.” Patton assured. There was an awkward silence that adorned the soom, one that was similar to what had resulted after the first incident many weeks before. 

 

“Does it hurt?” Roman asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Why were you so reluctant to share this with us if you are so certain that it is ‘not a big deal,’ as you said?”

 

“Because, Logan,” Virgil replied, just short of a groan, “it’s embarrassing. I’ve tried putting creams and lotions on it, and it’s a lot better than it used to be, but it’s just a thing that’s always been there. And it doesn’t help that being stressed can cause flare ups, which means it’ll likely never disappear completely, so I’d rather just ignore it, honestly.”

 

“Oh,” the logical side replied, seemingly at a loss for words.

 

“So… are we good now?” Virgil impatiently asked. Roman tensed before deciding something on a whim.

 

“Um, actually,” he spoke up. “I have something to confess too- also a ‘skin thing,’ as Virgil described it.”

 

“Wait, _ what? _ ” Virgil said in a shocked tone. “For real?”

 

“Yes, ‘for real,’” Roman huffed. “Well, as I doubt any of you are unaware of, I do wear makeup.”

 

“You are correct in assuming we all know that fact.”

 

“Sure do, kiddo!”

 

Virgil just stared, somewhat intrigued.

 

“It’s because- well- have you ever heard of rosacea?”

 

“Rosacea? I am afraid that I have not.”

 

Patton shook his head instead of verbally admitting his lack of knowledge of the word. The anxious side, however, seemed to know what Roman was talking about, pitching in a slight, “oh, okay,” after Logan’s statement.

 

On the outside, Virgil seemed unconcerned, but Roman could see that he was a little relieved for all of the attention to be off of him and on Roman instead. (The lack of concern in Virgil’s words could also be attributed to the fact that Virgil knew what Roman was talking about, honestly.)

 

“It describes having a rather red complexion, and not a normal amount of pink in the cheeks. Red as in ‘I look sunburned’ red.” 

 

“That’s it?” Patton confusedly asked. “Why hide that?”

 

“Like Virgil said, it’s embarrassing. And not very princely either.”

 

“Well, neither of you has anything to be embarrassed about,” Logan said.

 

The slightest of smiles made itself known on Virgil’s face, as did one on Roman’s. “Well, kiddos,” Patton interjected, “who’s up for a movie night?”

 

“Disney?” Roman hopefully asked.

 

“Any objections?” Patton said to the other two sides, Logan and Virgil simply shaking their heads in disagreement. In fact, Virgil offered to help Patton with the snacks as Roman and Logan set up the first movie.

  
  


\---

  
  


Movie night had turned into more of a marathon, and Roman barely had enough energy to wipe off his makeup and wash his face before collapsing into bed well past three in the morning. When he awoke the next day (later than normal, but still a decent hour), he showered and went about his normal routine- except he hesitated at the final part. Roman thought it over, and before he could lose his nerve, he left the room without a visit to his vanity. 

 

Surprisingly, Patton was awake when he arrived downstairs, making the only side absent Virgil. The moral and logical sides very pointedly said nothing about Roman’s face or lack of makeup, unless one counted Patton’s exclamation about how he could see Roman’s freckles. Which did exist, and were covered up when he applied his makeup. (Shame, really- his freckles were one of the only things Roman genuinely liked about his face. And while he could add them back in theory, in reality he had never done so and had preferred to not draw any more attention to his face than strictly necessary.)

 

It wasn’t much longer- half an hour, maybe- before Virgil appeared as Roman ate the pancakes that Patton had made. Virgil, too, had shed his metaphorical shield: he was still in pajamas, which apparently meant a short sleeved shirt for the anxious side.

 

Without the layer of clothing to cover his arms, Virgil’s eczema was much more noticeable, but Roman made a point of not acknowledging it. Virgil reciprocated, but more importantly, the other sides followed his lead. (They probably were doing so without Roman’s example, but the creative side was sure that it couldn’t hurt.)

 

(Virgil took a sip of his first mug of coffee, Roman ate another bite of his breakfast, and life went on.)

**Author's Note:**

> question: do i project everything onto fictional characters??  
> answer: you bet,,,
> 
> (i do, in fact, have eczema. mine has gotten better but has not completely gone away (mine was mostly on my feet/ankles, though). i also may/may not have rosacea?? honestly its hard to tell. either i do or just have a really red complexion, but i have Artistic Liberties so roman most definitely has it.) (also,, it's just such a great fit for his character, if you think about it in a literary way- he's supposed to be the 'prince', the one that is supposedly the most attractive- yet he is constantly reminded that he is not by something that is literally right in front of him. not to mention it definitely would make him self conscious which would only add to his insecurities so y e a h.)(wow that got really meta real quick)
> 
> find my fics on [tumblr](https://pastelvirgil.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20fic)


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